Memory
by chimere
Summary: Nothing is ever quite over and finished, because memory lingers, whether we want it to or not. What life might be like for the Adama men in the new world. Lee, Bill, and by implication, naturally Laura as well. About ten months after “Daybreak”.


Disclaimer: everything in Battlestar Galactica (re-imagined series) belongs to Ronald D. Moore, David Eick and the Sci Fi Channel, I'm just borrowing some of it. Not making any money. Don't sue.

* * *

**Memory**

_By chim__è_re

The second trip Lee takes to explore the new Earth is not as long as the first. He's not exactly sure about the time - somewhere around two months, he thinks, but his watch is broken and there's no one to repair it and the days and months of this planet are different anyway. The distance covered is definitely less. It seemed like a fine idea to sail to the large island to the east of the continent where they'd first landed, at least until his boat began to take in water on the return trip. Good thing he didn't try to cross the ocean all at once, or he would have drowned in the crystalline blue water of their heavenly new home after surviving four years of hell. Not the best way of doing business.

His boat is in the small fishing haven some former Colonials have established on the eastern coast of the continent, pulled ashore to wait for a time he'll feel like repairing it, which certainly isn't now. He is looking down on the settlement by the river, the houses scattered across the area where Romo Lampkin once proposed to build a city. No, he doesn't feel like going there, either. He'll make his way to a familiar hilltop about a day's journey from here.

Lee hasn't approached his father's cabin from this direction, has only been there once, really, but he has the coordinates and his locator is still just barely working. He hopes the battery won't run out for good before he gets there. He doesn't feel like returning here and asking for directions. He hasn't felt like talking to anyone for a long time. The only exception is his father, although with him, it's less talking and more being silent together. Doesn't matter. His father understands.

With a final glance at the village that might have been a city, Lee continues his journey.

* * *

Admiral William Adama is... gardening. Not something that Lee would ever have imagined his father doing, but then, he's not the Admiral any more. Not really. Except that when Lee looks at him, the title is still almost the first thing that comes to mind. He smiles and calls him the very first thing that comes to mind. "Dad!"

His father stops weeding the row of plants that looks impressively military for something so innocently agricultural - the whole garden reminds Lee distinctly of ranks of soldiers. Bill straightens slowly, not looking at his son until he's drawn himself up to his full height. When he does look at Lee, he's not smiling, but there is warmth in his eyes. "Son."

"The garden is something new," Lee offers.

"It was here the last time you visited, but you couldn't really see it under the weeds. Took some time to get the hang of it. I don't have much of a green thumb, as I told Laura."

"Could've fooled me," Lee mutters, looking at the garden and thinking about the way his father seems to be able to talk about Laura Roslin with the same warmth and love as when she was still alive, while he can only feel worry and grief at the mention of her name.

"Let's go inside, it's gonna be dark soon."

* * *

After they've eaten, they sit in the porch of the cabin and watch the stars appear. There's a bottle of Earth ambrosia and comfortable silence in the one place on this planet that feels homely at all.

"You know what I stumbled across on the way here?" Lee asks after a time.

"What?"

"Baltar's farm. It's about an hour's walk from the settlement. Saw him, too - walking around his fields like the king of his own little empire," Lee says with distaste. "Luckily, he didn't see me, so I was spared from having to make polite conversation."

Bill is silent for a while. "Saul went there a week ago," he finally says. "Came here afterwards."

"Why the hell would he go there?" Lee asks, nonplussed.

"The Six they call Caprica is living there with Baltar. It was the anniversary of Liam's death."

The Cylon baby. Another one who didn't make it to this new life. Will memory never stop listing the names of the dead? Sometimes, Lee thinks it should - the weight of fifty billion dead people can crush the life out of anyone. But sometimes he thinks the names of the dead are the only thing keeping their souls from dissolving completely in this new world.

Memory is, after all, the only thing that is left of what once was. Of Caprican poetry and Colonial flags and callsigns and the Fleet and oaths and the Quorum and the Office of the President. Of their terrible and magnificent journey, of the Colonies and their old way of life.

His idea. A choice he sometimes has doubts about, like right now.

That's why this cabin feels like home, Lee suddenly realises. Inside this cabin, the old world exists still, in books on the shelves and a few photographs and a stubborn old man. Inside this cabin, it almost feels like the Colonies are still alive.

"You know..." Lee stops, clears his throat, tries again. "You know, sometimes I think... I didn't really know what I was doing when I proposed we let everything go. I didn't fully realise what we were giving up."

His father turns to look at him. "But you were right, all the same."

"Was I? Sometimes I don't know. I... I don't really know how to live in this new world, on this planet you named Earth. All I know is how to be a Colonial, and there's nothing left of that except memories."

To Lee's surprise, his father chuckles slightly. "Don't start living in memories. That's my part. You're too young for that."

"Easy for you to say," Lee mutters, a bit stung.

"Not so easy to do. I know. But you _are_ young, and you've deserved to live a good life."

"Have I?" Lee has nothing but self-doubt this night. "She would blame me for letting the Colonial civilization die. For finishing what the Cylons started."

Bill sighs. "She probably would blame you, for a while. But Laura would come around. You've given us a chance to break the cycle of constant war between humans and Cylons. I don't doubt she'd be grateful for that. What mattered most to her was that our people would survive."

Lee looks at his father sideways. "To the President, yes. What mattered most to Laura was you," he says quietly.

Bill doesn't answer. Lee can't see his face in the dark. There is a long silence in the porch of the cabin.

Lee feels the worry rise again, a cold fear for his father that returns every time he speaks or thinks of Laura Roslin. The fear that his father will break under all the losses he has endured - forget to eat and sleep, or go insane, or take his own life. How is it possible that he hasn't already broken? Lee isn't sure he himself could carry as much as his father.

_Because I can't live without her._ The words return to haunt Lee, and the worry tightens like a vice.

And yet his father is outwardly almost the same as he ever was. Perhaps even more reticent, his cragged face hardly displaying any emotion at all, but that seems to be a small price to pay for everything he's been through. Lee wonders and fears what might be lurking beneath the surface.

"You made the right choice," Bill says suddenly, breaking Lee's reverie. "And it'll take time, but you'll learn to live your new life."

Silence. Lee feels his throat clench and his eyes water and fights furiously for control, thankful for the darkness. Finally, he asks an old question, craving reassurance as much as the last time, over four years ago. "How can you be so sure?"

And his father gives him what he is asking for. "Because you're my son."

* * *

It's not quite dark, but not yet dawn, when Lee climbs to the highest point of the hill and looks at the cairn. He remembers the last time he saw Laura Roslin, waving weakly from the Raptor that now sits near the cabin and looks like it hasn't been used in months. And he remembers what he thought then - how he couldn't believe that this pale dying woman was the same Lady In Charge whom he had first seen organising the preparation of the cargo compartments of Colonial One for survivors, the same one who had called him "Captain Apollo" and kept him grounded during the chaos of that first horrible night. How he couldn't believe that such a mind and spirit and will could be reduced to this, a mere spark of what she once was.

And yet she had been. And now she is here, under the stones, with his father's heart.

"I'm sorry," Lee says softly. "I should have discussed this crazy plan of mine with you, too. But you were sick and I... I'm sorry."

The sun is coming up from behind the mountains and his father is watching it intently, standing beside the cabin waiting for him.

"I told her I was sorry," Lee says, pointlessly. "The Colonies are dead."

"Yes," Bill agrees, and Lee knows he is answering to more than what he just said. But there is a slight smile playing on his father's face.

_How do you bear all of it?_ Lee wants to ask, but doesn't, because he knows he doesn't have the right, not after adding the Colonies to the list of things his father has lost. Even if it was the right thing to do, even if his father accepts it, it will always be on his conscience.

"But we remember," his father says, looking towards the hilltop.

* * *

_Where do we go from here?_ Lee laughs softly, remembering himself posing that question so confidently, as though he knew the answer. Gods, what a naïve boy scout he had been, even then.

The settlement looks busy and peaceful at once. There's a boat coming up the river that runs to the same haven on the eastern coast where Lee left his own damaged vessel. People are moving about between the houses, working in the fields, herding some gazelle-like animals that don't look very keen to be domesticated. This is life. New, simple, quiet. On Earth.

"So does it meet your approval?"

Lee almost jumps. The woman has approached him without him taking notice. She is about his age and height, with chestnut hair and tanned skin, dressed simply and practically. He thinks she must have been a civilian, because she's completely unfamiliar and doesn't have a military air.

But then, they're all civilians now.

"I'm Phyllis Reece." She extends her hand.

He takes it. "Lee Adama."

Phyllis smiles. "I know who you are."

Lee grimaces. "Yeah, that's my curse."

A small laughter bubbles up from her and quiets quickly. "So what do you think?" She sweeps her hand to encompass the settlement.

"It's... beautiful. Peaceful. The way we wanted."

Phyllis looks at him. "I know. It's not the same, is it?" Startled, Lee meets her gaze, but after a moment, she turns away again to watch the settlement. "I guess it's not supposed to be. But... I'm Phyllis Reece from Virgon, and that doesn't mean anything any more. It's all gone. It'll be just a legend for our children."

It amazes Lee that Phyllis would choose to talk to him about this with quiet sadness and not blame.

"But we remember them. The Colonies. Everything that was before," he says.

She nods absently.

"Phyllis Reece from Virgon," he says - at this, she turns to him, surprised -, "I am Lee Adama, from Caprica, but the Adama family originally came from Tauron. I'm glad to meet you."

Phyllis smiles at him, with gratitude and the beginnings of acceptance, and Lee realises that his father was right. He will learn to live this new life.


End file.
